Classic Poem

Why should we not accuse thee of a crime
And justly call thee envious Time;
When in our pleasures wee desire to stay,
With swallows speed thou flyest away;
But if a griefe in our sad hearts doe keepe
Then thou art like a snail & wilt not creepe;
Alter thy pace, and whilst this night
I and my mistresse change delight,
Let the sand slowly through the howreglasse fall,
And bidd the clocks runne backwards all;
Score not a minute up for every kisse
Least day too soone confine our blisse;
Learn of Eternity not to change, and bee
As fixed, and soe as blest, as shee;
But when the oft repeated acts of Love
Grow stale, and we beginne to move
Without quicke spirits, when she and I
In faint & slack embraces lye;
And like the half dead ivy twine
The branches of our withered vine;
If then a dull and melancholy fitt
Doe heavy on the conscience sitt,
As some say 't will; shake off thy drowzy chaine
And gently Time take then thy wings againe.